


The Project

by sylc



Category: Gakuen Heaven
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-09 09:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylc/pseuds/sylc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nakajima agrees to help a teacher get Shichijo kicked out of school for cheating on his platinum paper. When they get paired together on a computer studies project, Nakajima notices Shichijo responding positively to his habitual flirtations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This is a pig sty, Omi,” Kaoru exclaimed as he stepped into his best friend’s dorm room and began picking his way across what he could see of the floor between the piles of electronic gadgetry, dirty clothes, and empty sweet packets that lay strewn across the carpet. “It’s even worse than I thought it would be. I don’t think you cleaned at all over the holidays.”

 

Omi, a few steps ahead of him, forced a smile and turned slightly to look back at him. “Ah yes. I’m afraid it’s been a while since I tidied up.”

 

“I’m surprised that you keep the Treasury so clean considering you have such bad habits,” Kaoru grumbled as he finally reached Omi’s desk. “Suddenly I’m less certain the Chairman's insistence that you join the Third Years’ computer studies course was such a good idea. Kurosawa-sensei was probably right to protest accelerating you.” He pushed the crumpled sports uniform lying on the seat onto the floor and sat down, closing his eyes tightly for a few moments as if he thought that that might vanish the mess. Upon reopening his eyes, he looked critically at Omi, who was standing by the balcony door, which he was sliding open, assumedly in an attempt to aerate the place.

 

“As soon as you find the Chairman’s permission letter regarding the transfer for Kurosawa - _if_ you can, can we leave? I can’t bear to look at this place much longer. What does Shinomiya-san say about this hovel?” Kaoru asked.

 

Omi snickered. “Shinomiya-senpai would agree with you.”

 

“Well, of course. But I’m surprised that he hasn't given you demerit points or extra chores for not cleaning your room.” Then he paused and his eyes narrowed. “Why did you say ‘would’? Doesn’t he inspect your room?”

 

Omi’s smile widened slightly. “Oddly enough, his key card stopped working a little while back. He is still waiting for an adequate fix.”

 

Kaoru huffed. “You’re impossible!” Then he sniffed and frowned. “Is that cigarette smoke?” He rose and, Omi’s dirtiness temporarily set aside, strode over to the open balcony door. He blinked in surprise when Omi - looking suddenly alarmed - smartly shut the door in his face. “Omi! Who lives beneath you?”

 

“Sorry, Kaoru-kun. I forgot about that.”

 

“Who?”

 

Omi smiled again, which only served to irritate Kaoru further. “Who’s underneath you, Omi?” he snapped.

 

“Nakajima-senpai.”

 

“I knew it!” Suddenly, the Queen of Bell Liberty Academy’s face was pale with rage. “It’s appalling what he gets away with here. He’s almost as bad as that idiot Niwa.”

 

Omi turned away from him and went over to his rumpled bed, upon which was stacked a large folder emblazoned with the Bell Liberty logo and - in capitals - “Third Year Computer Studies”. Kaoru, a little surprised at not receiving a response to his aggrieved outburst, frowned as he watched his friend collect the folder.

 

“Kaoru-kun, I’d rather not linger here with the door open.” Omi started ahead without waiting for Kaoru’s reply, which went rather as he expected as his friend hurried to catch up.

 

“I think a dose of Shinomiya-san would do you good.” Kaoru sniffed as he exited the room and closed the door behind them. “Clean this mess before the weekend or I’ll let him into your room myself.” The automatic lock clicked into place behind them. “Does Nakajima-san know that you live above him?”

 

“Perhaps,” Omi replied placidly as he led the way down the corridor towards the stairs. “However, as you recall I did move rooms after Kakeru-kun and Wataru-kun flooded the bathroom two months ago. Unless Nakajima-san has studied the dormitory plan since then or monitors our movements, I suspect he does not know at all.”

 

“Humph. I hope it stays that way,” Kaoru said crossly. “I wouldn’t put him past meddling directly with the wiring to your room.”

 

Omi halted and glanced back at him, his expression suddenly serious. “That’s true.” Then he smiled peaceably again. “As I haven’t encountered any issues, I suppose he doesn’t know, then.”

 

~*~

 

It was very late that night when Omi finally retired to his room. He chucked his laptop and the slightly dog-eared computer studies folder onto his bed and began to get undressed. First he hung his blazer and tie on the back of his desk chair. Then he shrugged out of his other clothes, casting them carelessly on the floor. For a few fleeting moments, he recalled Kaoru’s disgust with his untidiness and glanced around for his clothes hamper, but when he finally sighted it beneath a pile of old computer tests, he grimaced and looked away. He found his crumpled pyjamas amidst his bedsheets and pulled them on, sighing a little as he felt the silk slide sensuously against his skin.

 

He turned on his bedside lamp, switched off his room light, and was about to climb into bed when he noticed that he could see light beaming out from the floor beneath his balcony, indicating that the Vice President of the Student Council, Hideaki Nakajima, was both still awake and outside.

 

Quietly, Omi padded over to his balcony door and slid it soundlessly open to be immediately assaulted by the warm acrid smell of cigarette smoke. He leaned against the door jamb, breathing in the smoke, titillated by the thought that some of it had been in the other boy’s lungs and mouth. A few minutes later he was rewarded for his patience by the sound of the Vice President’s deep voice.

 

“If you’re going to lie, don’t get found out.”

 

There was a pause and then Nakajima chuckled lowly. Omi’s eyes fluttered closed and, inhaling deeply, he gnawed gently at his lower lip with his teeth. He slid a hand down to palm himself gently through his pyjama pants.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

Another silence. Then Omi heard the older boy’s balcony chair squeak as Nakajima shifted his weight on it.

 

A tut. “I agree.” Spoken gruffly. “Saturday at 6, then. I’ll meet you there.”

 

Above, Omi frowned and shut his door to pad over to his bed. A date? Although he knew well that Nakajima frequently had one night stands, it had been a couple of months at least since the senior had had a steady. As he reached over to the table lamp to turn it off, his gaze fell onto the folder resting on one corner of his bed, beside his laptop. He hadn’t seen much of the older boy since last term, when Ito Keita had transferred to the school and caused all that drama with the MVP battle. Keita had been Nakajima’s last boyfriend before the First Year had moved onto the Chairman. Omi pursed his lips and then flicked the lamp switch, plunging his room into shadow.

 

~*~

 

Hideaki Nakajima’s eyes narrowed when, upon following Tetsuya into the computer studies classroom the next morning, their first class for the subject that term, he saw Second Year student Omi Shichijo sitting in Tetsuya’s usual chair - second from the back, next to the window.

 

Tetsuya had already noticed and was bounding over to the silver-haired half-Japanese boy. “Oi,Shichijo-kun. What are you doing here?”

 

Despite sitting in the sunniest chair in the room, the Treasury’s Dog was still - as per usual - wrapped up in every possible school uniform layer: shirt, tie, vest _and_ blazer. Probably was hiding a thermal layer under that shirt as well. Hideaki never understood how Shichijo could be so cold all of the time. A side effect of his sedentary computer-based lifestyle, perhaps. He vaguely wondered if his nipples were peaked from the cold even now. He watched the younger boy smile politely at Tetsuya and reply, in his quiet and placid voice: “I’m a student here with the Chairman’s permission, Niwa-senpai.”

 

“Seriously? I’m impressed,” Tetsuya gushed, planting his books and laptop onto the empty window desk in the row directly in front of Shichijo. “How’d you get past Kurosawa? He’s tough about rules, man.” He leaned against the back of the desk chair, facing the half-Japanese boy, arms crossed, smiling broadly.

 

Hideaki, behind him, noted that if he was to sit beside Tetsuya, as he usually did, but now in the wrong row, he would have to kick someone out of their seat. His usual seat, right next to Shichijo, was empty however. He would have to suck it up and sit next to the rugged up Dog or sit on the other side of the room. After a few seconds deliberation, he went over to his usual desk, pulled out the chair, and sat down. He heard a few gasps and guessed, with a sneer, that the sight of him sitting beside his sworn enemy would be around the whole student body by lunchtime. With photographic proof to boot, undoubtedly.

 

He set up his books and laptop, half-listening to Tetsuya and Shichijo’s conversation as he did so. All was as Kurosawa had told him last night by phone: Shichijo was here at the request of the Chairman and had stayed at the academy over the holidays just gone to catch up with the Third Years.

 

“So you stayed here and did a load of exams.” Tetsuya chuckled. “Ouch! But good on you! I bet you found the school pretty quiet. Is the cafeteria still open during break?”

 

Hideaki frowned and prodded his slipping glasses further up his nose. He opened his laptop and resumed typing up his Politics essay. He wanted to get it done before Saturday as he had dined before with Gorou Kurosawa at gatherings with his uncle and knew that a lot of alcohol would accompany and follow the meal, possibly knocking him out for much of Sunday. He’d try to limit himself, but there were limits to personal limitations where family obligations were concerned.

 

A few minutes later, Kurosawa himself entered. Tetsuya was asked to take a seat and they began class. As Hideaki already knew, this term would be devoted to a group project. They would be divided into teams of two and each team would come up with and create a program. He and Tetsuya had originally agreed to team together, though they had yet to agree on an idea that they both liked. After what Kurosawa had told him last night, however, that was all about to change.

 

The class was devoted to explaining the project and a few examples provided of previous students’ achievements. Essentially there were no limits. Apparently a few previous creations were now implemented in the real world: ATM technology, credit card chip technology, phone technology, database software… Hideaki listened interestedly.

 

As the class drew to a close, his mind was buzzing excitedly with ideas. He had already begun mind mapping a few of them on his computer and brainstorming who he knew in the real world who might be able to give him advice, resources and a practical focus.

 

“Nakajima-san. Shichijo-san. Stay after class, please,” Kurosawa said then. “The rest of you are dismissed.”

 

Hideaki packed up and approached the teacher’s desk. Shichijo followed suit, standing a few feet from him, smiling that awful fake polite smile. Quietly, they watched the rest of the class file out. When Tetsuya passed them - last of all, his best friend slapped him on the shoulder and winked, saying with characteristic cheeriness, “I’ll see you in the cafeteria, hey?”

 

“Sure.” Hideaki watched him leave the classroom. The door slid shut.

 

“Nakajima-san.”

 

Hideaki looked attentively at Kurosawa. “Sensei,” he said politely.

 

The man smiled brightly at him. Not that he had much of an alternative, given that he was friends with Hideaki’s uncle. Obligations went both ways. “As you know, Shichijo-san is a Second Year and may require extra support for the group project. As such, I want you to pair with him.”

 

Hideaki pretended that the teacher hadn’t already asked this of him over the phone. He blinked. Then he inclined his head. “As you wish.” Straightening, and adjusting his glasses as he did so, he looked at Shichijo, whose face had suddenly become even more unreadable than usual. “Is this acceptable to you, Kohai?” he asked.

 

Shichijo smiled so falsely, Hideaki wondered that Kurosawa didn’t call him on it. He couldn’t imagine that any onlooker who didn’t already know that he and Shichijo had a problem with each other, wouldn't know now. But apparently Kurosawa was planning on sticking to a mask of benign ignorance and amicability.

 

“Of course. Thank you, Nakajima-senpai,” Omi said. Were his voice an implement, it would have been lethal. It was also probably the most words spoken together that Hideaki had directly heard from him in months. …And probably also the first time the Treasury’s Dog had ever called him senpai. A thought striking him, Hideaki quickly reached into his pocket and took out his phone. He flipped it open. “What’s your phone number?”

 

He revelled in the other boy’s momentary hesitation. But in front of a teacher, especially a teacher who was unhappy with him, Shichijo had no alternative. As Shichijo began telling him, Hideaki entered the numbers into his phone. He kept his face straight throughout, but did needlessly ask the younger student to repeat a few digits just for the sake of enjoying Shichijo being pained to say them again.

 

“May I have your number?” Shichijo asked him then, after Hideaki had put away his phone.

 

“I’ll prank you later,” Hideaki replied, and savoured the disappearance of Shichijo’s smile. He looked back at Kurosawa, who had turned away and was packing up his materials. “Kurosawa-sensei, will that be all?”

 

“Yes. Thank you, Nakajima-san, Shichijo-san. You are dismissed.”

 

Hideaki bowed and left. Shichijo followed him. In the corridor, Hideaki noticed that Shichijo headed the other way from him. He wondered, smugly, if the divergent path was chosen deliberately, and then decided - his smile widening - that it had to be.


	2. Chapter 2

“Isn’t morning recess a little early for ice cream?”

 

Omi looked up from where he was sitting on the treasury room armchair, his Shakespeare omnibus on his lap, to observe Kaoru standing at the door of the treasury room and staring incredulously at him. He smiled.

 

“I wasn’t aware that there was an appropriate time of day to begin eating ice cream,” he replied sweetly.

 

Kaoru looked at him suspiciously and entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Omi-kun, what’s the matter?”

 

“Nakajima-san.”

 

Omi watched Kaoru’s eyes narrow. “Did he hack us again?”

 

“No,” Omi said quickly. He hesitated, briefly wondering how to phrase himself, and finally settled on the unemotionally simple: “Kurosawa-sensei asked us to pair up together for the term project.”

 

“And you said no.”

 

“And _Nakajima-senpai_ said yes,” Omi corrected, his voice tight. “After that, in front of a teacher, especially Kurosawa, I couldn’t very well say no.”

 

Kaoru folded his thin arms and turned away to stalk over to the window, a brooding expression on his face. Omi resumed nibbling at his chocolate coated vanilla ice cream as he watched his friend stare thoughtfully out at the courtyard below him.

 

“I think it’s a good opportunity,” Kaoru said finally. Omi closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. His friend’s response was as he had predicted, but prediction hadn’t prepared him any better for hearing it.

 

Kaoru continued: “Nakajima-san has no reason to work against you on a joint project. Perhaps this will help you understand each other better.”

 

Omi put the English book down on the coffee table, rose, and walked over to the desk to retrieve a couple of painkiller tablets from a drawer. He swallowed them with a mouthful of ice cream and grimaced when the powdery residue stuck in his throat. Looking up, he saw that Kaoru was watching him, a furrow in his friend’s brow. Omi frowned back. “What?”

 

“I’m worried about you,” Kaoru said crossly. “You’ve been out of sorts since staying here over the holidays, studying for that Third Year course. I don’t understand why you get so bothered about Nakajima-san. He hasn’t hacked us since last term, as far as you’ve told me, so unless he’s been bullying you - _in which case you should tell me -_ ” he emphasised, “I don’t see why he presents a problem for you. How many times do you I have to tell you? He likes games. Don’t let him bait you and he’ll leave you alone.”

 

Omi sighed and leaned back against the desk. If only it was that simple. If only Kaoru realised that the real problem was that recently, especially since moving rooms, Omi had discovered he liked Nakajima’s games a little too much. “I suppose the same could be said about you and Niwa-senpai,” he said quietly.

 

He noted Kaoru’s angry flush. “That’s different! Nakajima-san doesn’t sexually harass you. I slap Niwa because he treats me like a girl and his hands wander.” But then Kaoru hesitated and a look of alarm entered his face, “Wait, Nakajima hasn’t done that to you, has he?”

 

Omi smiled faintly. “No, Kaoru, he has never done that,” he reassured.

 

After classes that day, Omi was in the treasury room again, doing homework on his laptop, when he felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pocket. Upon retrieving the device, he saw that he had received a message from an unknown number to his phone. The number, however, wasn’t unknown to Omi, who had memorised it about a year prior when he had seen it listed on the school’s personnel database one time.

 

_Meet me after 5 at the Student Council Room. -NH_

 

Omi looked at the clock. It was almost 5 now. He looked at Kaoru, who was sitting drinking tea on the armchair, his physics book lying open on his lap. In the bin beyond the sofa, an empty carton of chocolate milk rested on top of the empty ice cream wrapper from recess. Kaoru had bought him the drink and given it to him after class, by way of a peace offering for their argument earlier.

 

He began gathering up his belongings. “I’m heading out,” he said quietly when Kaoru looked up to see what he was doing. When the pink haired boy frowned, Omi explained, “Nakajima-senpai wants to discuss our project.”

 

Kaoru nodded and smiled at him. “Good luck.”

 

Omi smiled back. “Thank you.”

 

~*~

 

The Vice President was alone in the Student Council room when Omi arrived at 5pm sharp. He was sitting in his usual spot, typing at the computer, and although he told Omi to enter, he didn’t look away from his screen when Omi was actually in the room. Omi glanced at the computer, suddenly nervous that Nakajima was hacking the treasury again and taking advantage of Omi’s attention being elsewhere. He was reassured to see - instead of code - a written document full of Japanese characters. A politics essay, by the looks of it. One of Omi’s worst subjects. Nakajima’s best, but as the son of a prominent politician, that was no surprise.

 

“There’s a folder on the desk for you,” Nakajima said sharply, still not looking at him.

 

Omi frowned and looked at the Student Council desk where Niwa usually sat when the President deigned to sit in the Student Council Room. There were two piles - one very high one about ten folders deep, another four folders deep, and beside them both, a lone folder. Omi went over, put down his books and laptop, and picked up the solitary one to open it. He frowned when he read the topmost document and, interest piqued, began slowly turning the pages.

 

He was looking at photocopied computer studies class notes, written in Nakajima’s neat, spiky handwriting. And after those: summaries of high scoring group projects from previous years, each critiqued by Nakajima.

 

The sound of typing suddenly stopped and Omi looked back at Nakajima. The senior had turned in his chair to glare at him.

 

“Thank you,” Omi said, awkwardly.

 

Nakajima eyed him coldly. After a long pause, the older student reached up and adjusted his glasses. “Are you free on Sunday at 2?”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Think about what you want to do for the project before then,” Nakajima said curtly. “We’ll meet here to share proposals and choose one. You’re dismissed.” Then he spun back to his computer and resumed typing.

 

Omi swallowed. Grateful though he knew he should be, the older boy’s behaviour was just… Nakajima was treating him like he barely existed. Like he was worth nothing. Just by giving him this folder. He felt a prickling anger and shame wash over him. This hadn’t been given to him to help him. This folder was here to patronise him. Nakajima knew that Omi was just as capable and likely better than him at computer studies. Omi picked up the folder and his belongings, balancing the pile awkwardly against his chest, and swiftly left, heading not back to the treasury, as he had originally intended, but back to his room. He couldn’t face Kaoru in his current condition. Once safe in his locked room, he unloaded the folders onto his bed, undressed, and headed into the shower.

 

He swore as he felt the hot water strike his body, and then swore again as he began to cry. He rubbed at his face with his hands. God, he was such a baby! How he was going to tolerate working with that bastard over the next few weeks, he didn’t know.

 

He stood under the running hot water for some ten minutes and then, finally, after his tears had subsided, he came out and got dressed, feeling slightly dizzy. Cursing himself under his breath, he sat down on the end of his bed and pulled the folder that Nakajima had given him onto his lap. He felt humiliated just touching the documents, but he knew he had better look through them all the same. There might be something there that he hadn’t seen before, after all. He was reminded painfully of when the Vice President had insinuated, during Omi’s first year, that Omi had cheated his way into Bell Liberty Academy. It was shortly after that uncomfortable moment when the older boy first attempted to hack him. His hands shaking slightly, he began reading the other boy’s notes from where he had left off.

 

~*~

  
Despite Hideaki’s hopes, his hangover from socialising the previous night with his uncle, Kurosawa-sensei, and a few of their business associates was still tormenting him on Sunday afternoon. His headache and upset routine - he missed both his Sunday morning karate training and breakfast with Tetsuya - left him in a very bad mood.

 

His misgivings that continuing work on his still unfinished politics essay on an empty stomach and whilst sporting a headache might be an insurmountable challenge were proven correct when he found himself staring at a pile of school council work due Monday that Tetsuya had failed to complete when he arrived at the Student Council Room early on Sunday afternoon.

 

He had just started working on the pile when there came a knock on the door. Hideaki looked up and glared at the clock. 2pm already? He’d give it 2pm. He grabbed a spare pen from the open drawer beside him and threw it at the clock. It landed in the wall with a thud, two feet from the target.

 

“Enter,” he snapped.

 

The door opened quietly and Shichijo, on his irritatingly quiet feet, walked in. “Good afternoon, Nakajima-senpai,” the younger student greeted.

 

Hideaki wanted to kill him.

 

There was a long silence.

 

“You did specify 2 o’clock, did you not?” Shichijo questioned placidly.

 

Hideaki inhaled deeply and got up. “Let’s go outside,” he said shortly. He needed some fresh air. He needed something to eat and drink as well. He brushed past Shichijo and left the council room to head downstairs to the foyer of the building. Shichijo followed silently.

 

On the stairway down, they passed an open window and a gust of warm fresh air breezed past Hideaki’s face. Briefly, he felt a little better. He reached into his trouser pocket to count the coins there between his fingers, and on reaching the foyer, went over to the drinks vending machine to purchase first an iced chocolate that he had seen Shichijo favour on a few occasions, and an iced coffee for himself. He retrieved both from the outlet and, turning towards Shichijo, placed the iced chocolate on top of the pile of books, folders, and laptop in the boy’s arms. Then he walked outside, opening his own drink as he did so and taking a few sips.

 

He walked around the building to a deserted sunny bench located between two classroom buildings. The bench was only frequented on weekdays and today, as Hideaki had guessed it would be, was abandoned. He turned, leaned against the wall facing the bench, and finally looked at his project team mate properly.

 

Shichijo smiled at him, but as per usual, it looked false. The younger boy looked a little awkward with the pile of stuff in his arms. The iced chocolate sitting precariously on the top of the pile looked even more incongruous.

 

“Senpai, is this drink for you or for me?” Shichijo asked, with sweet mock-politeness.

 

“For you,” Hideaki said shortly. “Sit down.”

 

Shichijo looked at Hideaki’s stance against the wall, seemed to hesitate, and then went over to the bench and sat down. He put his materials down beside him on the seat and opened his drink. Hideaki watched take a sip, absently noted the flick of the muscles in Shichijo’s neck as the other boy swallowed. Shichijo was in a good position to give head right there. He had always wanted to try running his fingers through that silver hair, see if that tongue so good at licking ice cream in the cafeteria was as good at…

 

 _Settle down_ , he told himself warningly.

 

He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “A paediatric pace maker,” he said suddenly, gruffly, to his ears. “Kurosawa told the Chairman he had paired us together and the Chairman emailed me with an offer. The Suzubishi Corporation wants us to design a paediatric pacemaker prototype.”

 

Shichijo’s expression didn’t change. The boy nodded once, a little regally, and Hideaki briefly wondered how many of Shichijo’s mannerisms had come from Saionji.

 

Hideaki sipped at his drink again and felt the pounding in his head lessen a little with the fluid. Likely the diuretic effect of the caffeine wouldn’t do him any favours later, but he was still in too much of a bad mood to care. He had bought the Treasury’s Dog a drink, for goodness sake. How more out of character could he be? If Tetsuya had seen him do that, he would never have heard the end of it.

 

Enough. This was all part of his manipulation to get what Kurosawa wanted from him: proof that Shichijo Omi cheated on his platinum paper.

 

“I’d like to accept the offer. Do you object?” Hideaki invited.

 

“I’d like to see the offer.”

 

Hideaki crossed his arms and smirked at him. “I’ll forward it to you this afternoon. Confirm and I’ll arrange a visit for us to Suzubishi’s research facility at AI Hospital this week.”

 

“…Yes.” Hideaki noticed that Shichijo’s expression had sunk back into his usual unreadable look.

 

“I’ll see you then.” Hideaki walked away, absently sipping at his drink.

 

~*~

 

That night, Omi was doing his maths homework at his desk when he saw Nakajima’s balcony light flick on below. He got up and opened his balcony door, leaning as usual against the door jamb. After a few minutes, he was rewarded with the smell of cigarette smoke. When Kaoru had visited him earlier that day to check that he had indeed cleaned his room, his friend had once again hinted at reporting Nakajima’s smoking habit. Again, Omi had dissuaded him.

 

“Oi, Hide,” he heard someone say quietly. Omi recognised the voice as that of the Student Council President, Tetsuya Niwa. “Sorry about dumping and running earlier.”

 

“You’re not really,” Nakajima’s voice was curt.

 

“Ah… haha. Well… only a bit. I’ll make it up to you, hey? Pay for your lunch every day this week.”

 

“I’ll be away on Wednesday.”

 

“Oh? Where’re you going?”

 

“A day trip for Kurosawa-sensei’s assignment.”

 

“Every day except Wednesday, then. Hey, how are you finding working with Shichijo-kun?”

 

Omi stiffened slightly.

 

There was a long silence.

 

“Admit it. He’s not so bad,” Niwa wheedled.

 

“The Treasury’s guard dog hasn’t bitten me yet this term, no,” Nakajima said finally, quietly.

 

“And he won’t if you play ball with him.”

 

“He has two. Play with them literally or figuratively?”

 

Niwa chuckled. “You’ve a dirty mind. Figuratively, definitely. Now quit smiling. You look creepy. You’re taking Shichijo-kun with you on Wednesday, right?”

 

“Pending the Chairman approves our leave applications, yes.”

 

Omi scowled. This was the first that he had heard of the research facility trip taking a whole day, let alone being scheduled for Wednesday. Had Nakajima applied for a day’s leave off classes for him without even telling him? Or was he lying to Niwa? Neither action by the senior would have surprised him. He closed the balcony door and padded back to the maths homework on his desk. About an hour later, he received a text message from Nakajima.

 

_Suzubishi Corp expects us all day Wednesday. Meet me at the school gates at 8. Chairman has approved leave._

 

He tried for a few different responses. Eventually, he settled on the simplest: _OK_


	3. Chapter 3

At 7:53am on Wednesday morning, Omi arrived at the foyer of the dormitory hall and saw Nakajima standing there, also apparently about to head out. The senior was wearing a deep blue suit that made him look even more serious than usual, and standing talking with Shinomiya near the front door. As Omi approached the pair, he saw Shinomiya hand the Vice President a small blue gift bag before bowing and leaving the hall.

 

“Good morning, Nakajima-senpai,” Omi said politely as he neared and the senior glanced at him.

 

The older boy looked him up and down briefly, taking in Omi’s neat casual attire of black wind jacket and corduroy pants, tutted, and then turned to leave the hall and head towards the front gates of the academy. Omi followed a few steps behind, feeling humiliated once again, but determined not to show it. There was nothing wrong with how he had dressed. Kaoru approved most of his outfits, including this one, and Kaoru frequented the same echelon of snobbery as Nakajima. As he followed behind the older boy, he realised that his motions echoed how he sometimes followed behind Kaoru-kun, only his relationship with his best friend was completely different to how Nakajima treated him.

 

_It’s almost as if he really thinks I am a dog, not a person._

 

The taxi was waiting for them when they arrived. To Omi’s surprise, Nakajima opened one of the back doors for him, closed the door after Omi was seated, and then went around the car to take the seat beside him.

 

“Have you had breakfast?” Nakajima asked curtly, once they were both shut in the vehicle.

 

“Yes.”

 

Nakajima looked at the back of the driver’s head. “AI Hospital,” he requested. As the car began to move, the senior sat back and fumbled a little with the twisted seat belt. Omi watched him fasten it. It was strange sitting so close to the older boy. From here, he could smell him. A mixture of a subtle deodorant, smoke, soap, and fresh perspiration, provoked probably by the senior’s morning karate. Additionally, there was a smell that was uniquely Nakajima, wonderful in Omi’s opinion, and probably in many people’s opinion given Nakajima’s many lovers. Omi looked away and focussed on thinking about pacemakers to distract himself from thoughts of burying his nose against his worst enemy.

 

The drive was about half an hour and Nakajima didn’t talk to him again during the journey. When they arrived, Omi was out of the car before the senior could come around and open his door. Quietly, he followed the Third Year into the hospital, into a lift, down a few long winding corridors, and into an office.

 

A female receptionist greeted them both, identifying Nakajima by name, and - when introduced to Omi by Nakajima - smiling and repeating Omi’s name with glazed eyes that predicted that his name would be swiftly forgotten, perhaps before he even left the woman’s sight. She took their bags for safe-keeping, including the gift bag that Nakajima had been carrying with him.

 

They were then introduced to a few researchers who had agreed to help them with their project. Unlike Nakajima, Omi didn’t know any of them, but he did his best to remember their names and job titles and to keep up when the researchers embarked on giving them a personal tour of the facility.

 

After the tour came a brief recess, catered for by the facility. Then there were presentations: an introduction to heart failure in children, indications for pacemakers, pacemaker types. Omi took notes feverishly, unlike Nakajima, who he noticed only occasionally made a notation in the small pocket book that he brought with him. This lack of note-taking on Nakajima’s part didn’t particularly surprise Omi. He still remembered seeing Nakajima’s score from when he hacked into Bell Liberty Academy’s platinum paper results two years ago. Nakajima Hideaki had done more than successfully pass a platinum paper. He had damn near destroyed the paper’s parameters. It was only after seeing Nakajima’s score paper that Omi had really understood Bell Liberty Academy’s acceptance criteria. Students were accepted only if they passed the paper and were utterly outstanding in a particular field like Naruse-senpai or Iwai-senpai, were in the top one percentile like Kaoru-kun and Niwa-senpai, or did something ridiculous like both answer - brilliantly - and haughtily critique the paper itself, like Nakajima-senpai had.

 

The presentation in front of them drew to a close and the speaker told them that there would be a break for lunch. Pocketing his notebook, Nakajima rose and went over to the presenter to talk quietly with him for a few minutes, a polite smile on his face. Omi began packing his own materials into his bag. Upon finishing and rising, he looked up and realised that the speaker had left and Nakajima was watching him.

 

“Senpai, where is the cafeteria?” Omi asked.

 

Nakajima snorted and, to Omi’s surprise, a ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “The food here is appalling. Let’s go out.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room. Omi hurried after him and followed him outside where Nakajima hailed a taxi and again, held the back door open for him.

 

After a short drive, they arrived at an expensive-looking seashore restaurant. A waiter took them to a secluded table facing the beach. A posy of white and pink rosebuds sat in a tiny white vase between them on the white tablecloth. From the sight of the place, Omi was well-prepared for the price of the menu before he saw it. Given Nakajima was never thoughtless, bringing him here could only be a deliberate cruelty on the part of the senior.

 

They didn’t talk to each other. It wasn’t until Nakajima’s cell rang, during their mains, that the senior finally spoke.

 

“Excuse me.” Nakajima flicked open his phone and pressed it to his ear. “What is it?”

 

He frowned as he listened to the person on the other end. “No, the swimming club’s next meeting is on Friday so you can leave making those arrangements to me to do tomorrow,” he said finally. He fell silent again as the speaker on the other end - who Omi had by now guessed was Niwa - continued talking. Omi watched the furrow in Nakajima’s brow get deeper.

 

“It’s in the second drawer, after the cards. No, before that.”

 

Another silence.

 

“The art display funds application is overdue at the Treasury. That’s why I asked Iwai-san to drop it on the desk this morning. He must have done so while you were at class. No, I won’t be back in time so you’ll have to deliver it. No. …No.” He glanced across at Omi, then down at his half-finished meal, and then waved over a passing waiter. “Yes, I will before we leave. Probably after 4. See you.” He hung up and, addressing the waiter, said, “Bring me a dessert menu.”

 

Omi blinked. When he ate out with Kaoru, Kaoru never let him order dessert, and on the rare occasion when Omi did so in spite of Kaoru’s protests, Kaoru never let him hear the end of it. He felt a thrill flicker through him and he smiled, his delight overriding his attempt to keep his emotions hidden from the older student.

 

The waiter returned with a small menu, which Nakajima took, scanned briefly, said, “number three and number five. Bring them after,” and then handed back. He glanced at Omi again, looked away, and then looked again as if he had only just registered Omi’s glee. Then he smiled slightly before looking down and resuming eating his fish and rice.

 

The desserts, when they arrived, were even better than Omi had hoped. One was a board covered with five different miniature cakes. Another was a lavish ice cream sundae covered in chocolate sauce, fruit, cookie pieces, spun sugar, and cream. Nakajima had the waiter place the board in the middle of the table, sliding the posy to the side to make room. The sundae he indicated was to be placed in front of Omi.

 

~*~

 

Hideaki observed Shichijo’s delight upon seeing the miniature cakes and giant sundae with an inward coil of pleasure. He didn’t think he had ever seen such a sincere smile on the junior’s face. The wrinkles at the corners of Shichijo’s eyes were so deep that they almost reached the adorable little mole under his left eye.

 

He picked up one of the two dessert forks supplied with the cake board and began sampling each of the tiny creations. Usually, he didn’t order dessert, as he was more inclined towards savoury, particularly spicy, foods. However, if the occasion called for it - usually on a date or when eating out with a girl - or, in this case, Shichijo’s love of sweets - he willingly bowed to the occasion. He liked treating pretty young things and seeing them smile, and although the boy in front of him wasn’t his date and they were far from friends, Shichijo-kun was certainly a very good looking specimen.

 

He sampled three of the five cakes and then finished, leaving the miniature lemon tart and cheesecake for the other boy to devour in full after he had finished with his sundae. Content, Nakajima sipped at his after lunch coffee as his companion continued to eat, occasionally looking up to quietly admire the sight of Shichijo licking his lips and spoon and peering excitedly at the colourful sweets in front of him.

 

“Do you bake?” he suddenly found himself asking.

 

Shichijo looked at him in surprise. “I… used to,” he admitted, with a smile. “I baked when I was in junior high, and studied home economics too.”

 

“You’d look good in an apron,” Hideaki purred, before he could stop himself. Across from him, Shichijo blinked. And then, to Hideaki utter surprise, the junior blushed.

 

 _Well, this is a surprise._ After over a year of believing that he could only pique Shichijo’s interest by challenging him intellectually with hacking battles, and all he had to do was buy him dessert and insinuate he was a domestic goddess.

 

"Hm. You look good right now: a little bit cute, Kohai."

 

There was a long silence. Hideaki sipped at his coffee with deliberate calm. Shichijo swallowed, and then - apparently unable to resist sugar and cream even in the face of his worst enemy's mockery - resumed engaging with his sundae in a way that Hideaki felt inclined to do with certain of Shichijo’s body parts. He had to look away and stop watching or he would have had an embarrassing problem by the time they left the table. He knew “Queen” Saionji-san wasn’t sleeping with his nicknamed “Knight” and suddenly he wondered what was wrong with the pink haired boy.

 

He glanced at his watch. It was almost time to leave. He waited a few more minutes, until Shichijo had started on the cake board, and then rose, excusing himself. He went to the bathroom and on returning, avoiding Shichijo’s line of sight, quietly paid the bill at the front of the restaurant. Upon returning to the table, he didn’t retake his seat.

 

“We’re going to be late,” he told Shichijo when the junior looked attentively at him. Shichijo rose, though not before - Hideaki noticed - shooting a reluctant look at the remaining small cakes. As they headed towards the exit, he saw Shichijo glance at the cashier, and he added, in a deliberately casual tone, “It’s paid.”

 

~*~

 

Omi felt his stomach plummet the moment he heard Nakajima state that he had paid the bill. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, once they were in the car.

 

Nakajima just looked at him. “My treat,” he replied smoothly.

 

"I'm not comfortable with that," Omi replied.

 

"You haven't been comfortable all day, Kohai." Nakajima smirked at him. "What's to be done about that?" His voice was purring again and with a jolt, Omi recognised the look as one Nakajima typically had when he was looking at a new conquest. His "sex face", he had heard other students call it. Nakajima was making “sex eyes” at him!

 

_You are not going to let him feel you up in a taxi!_

 

The sharp voice in his head sounded like Kaoru. It dragged him out of the thrilling fog that Nakajima's voice and presence was curling around him and suddenly, he found himself sitting up in his seat and pulling his jacket more closely around him. He smiled coolly at the older boy.

 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. But as you insisted, thank you for lunch, Senpai"

 

Nakajima glanced away and the boy adjusted his glasses slightly. His smirk softened to a smile. They travelled the rest of the way back to the hospital in silence.

 

The remaining presentations passed uneventfully. Afterwards, Nakajima stayed a while to thank the speakers and talk to those he knew personally. Omi waited behind him quietly. He was relieved when the senior finally excused them both and they walked back to the winding corridors, in the direction of the elevator and taxi rank.

 

They entered the elevator, Nakajima leading, and Omi noticed him press the button not to the ground floor, but to the third. He frowned.

 

"Where are we going?" he asked. He glanced at his watch. It was after four o'clock; they wouldn't be back at the academy until after 5 at this rate.

 

Nakajima glanced sidelong at him. "This won't take long."

 

The elevator doors slid open and the older boy strode out into the corridor beyond. With the manner of one who knew the floor well, he turned left and headed towards a locked double door. Omi looked at the sign above the door: Paediatric Intensive Care Unit.

 

Nakajima pressed the button on the door's answer phone, and when the phone crackled to life and asked them for their business, replied: "Friends of Shinomiya Ryoichi."

 

Omi's eyes widened. Shinomiya's little brother? As the doors opened and he followed Nakajima's taller frame into the unit, he looked around curiously, feeling a little awkward amidst the series of giant beds containing children surrounded by tubes and drips and softly beeping machines. He wasn't close to Shinomiya, but he had heard through the school grapevine that the dormitory head and archery captain had a sickly younger brother.

 

“Kohai."

 

He had fallen behind. Nakajima was standing at the doorway to a single room up ahead, gazing back at him expectantly. Omi walked over and together they entered the dim little room of an intubated nine or so year old boy. Although he was thin and small, his face resembled Shinomiya Kouji’s remarkably.

 

He was fast asleep. A nurse was attending to one of the many intravenous drips. She smiled at them and, when finished with what she was doing, came over to greet them.

 

"Hello. Are you friends of Ryoichi-kun?" she asked.

 

"Classmates of his brother Kouji," Nakajima said smoothly. He held out his hand and she shook it, looking a little surprised and impressed by the formality. "Nakajima Hideaki and this is Shichijo Omi.” Omi moved forward and shook her hand also. “Kouji asked us to drop off some items for him as he couldn't make it today."

 

“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” she said, her smile broadening. “Nakajima. I recognise your name. You’ve been here before, haven’t you.” She took the gift bag that Nakajima held out to her and peeked inside. “CDs for him. Thank you. He likes those.”

 

Omi listened quietly as Nakajima chatted to the nurse about the patient’s condition. Apparently Shinomiya’s brother had been transferred to AI Hospital a few months ago. He had subsequently deteriorated and been moved to the intensive care unit during the holidays.

 

Nakajima didn’t converse with the nurse for more than ten minutes. After ascertaining the patient’s condition that day, he wished the boy and the nurse well, and then left. Omi did likewise before following him, deep in thought.

 

“Does Shinomiya Ryoichi need a pacemaker?” Omi asked as they taxied back to the academy.

 

Nakajima looked up from reading the messages on his phone. He smirked. “Motivated?”

 

Concerned was a more apt description for how Omi now felt about accepting the Chairman’s proposal. “I didn’t know you were interested in electrical engineering,” he said.

 

“I’m not,” Nakajima said curtly. “But you are, Shichijo-kun.”

 

Omi stared at him, too incredulous at the statement to form words. Nakajima tutted at his expression.

 

“Don’t give yourself a conniption. You know hardware; I’ve seen your devices for Umino-sensei floating around the school. We’ll work with the company on the hardware and they’ll test the prototype thoroughly before inserting it into anyone. Kurosawa-sensei will assess us on the computer aspect.”

 

Omi stared at him doubtfully. Then, another thought striking him, he ventured, worriedly, “Are you proposing I do the electrical engineering aspect of the project and you the computer engineering?”

 

“Precisely.” Nakajima was looking at his phone again, a frown on his face.

 

“How will Kurosawa-sensei grade me if I can’t demonstrate that I did any computer work on this proposed pacemaker?”

 

Nakajima paused. Then he raised his gaze and looked critically at him. “It’s a group assignment, Kohai. As the assessment score sheet states, we are graded as a pair.”

 

Omi stared back at him, his own gaze wary. He wouldn’t put it past Nakajima to lie to him, but he also knew that the older boy wouldn’t lie so blatantly. When the senior broke eye contact and looked back down at his phone, he looked away - feeling upset with himself for his own doubts. They were partners now. Short of sabotaging the entire project and risking his own grade, how could Nakajima possibly harm him?

 

They didn’t talk for the rest of the journey back. Considering the senior’s disdainful last words to him, Omi half-suspected Nakajima would leave without saying goodbye as soon as they were out of the taxi.

 

But as he got out of the taxi, he was surprised when Nakajima not only spoke to him, but came over to his side of the car and opened his door for him. Bewildered, Omi got out, not looking at him as he didn’t know where to look.

 

“Shichijo-kun.”

 

The other’s scent was stronger after their long day out, and it was even more distracting. Omi stepped away awkwardly and quickly asked, “Are you free to meet to discuss the project on Sunday at 2 again?” He looked cautiously at the older boy and was relieved to see that Nakajima was gazing at him normally - with his usual cold stare.

 

Nakajima nodded curtly. “I’ll book a room in the library,” he said. “See you then.” So saying, he walked away.

 

~*~

 

It was about five o'clock so Hideaki went to his room, changed into his basketball gear, and headed to the courts. Upon his arrival, he heard a few groans from Tetsuya’s usual team mates and smirked. And then he heard the score and wondered whether he should have bothered turning up at all.

 

That was when he noticed that Niwa Tetsuya was no where to be seen. “Where’s Tetsuya?” he asked of Naruse, who was refereeing that night.

 

“Oi, I’m here. Don’t be mean to my team tonight, Hide,” a familiar voice said - a little nasally - from the benches. Hideaki swung around and stared at his best friend in alarm. Tetsuya was sitting on the bench, nursing a black eye and bloody nose with a dripping ice pack.

 

Hideaki swore and strode over. “What happened to you?” he demanded as he reached out and grabbed his best friend by the chin. He turned Tetsuya’s face this way and that. “Why aren’t you in the sick room?”

 

“Ow-ow-ow. I _was_ there,” Tetsuya grumbled, pulling his face free. “It’s been seen. Someone just elbowed me in the face now and it started bleeding again.”

 

“Saionji-san punched him. Twice,” Naruse supplied. The blond had come up to watch their exchange and now reached out to take the ice pack. “I’ll get you a fresh one,” he said cheerfully.

 

Hideaki frowned. “Saionji-san was in the Treasury when you delivered Iwai-san’s application,” he deduced, “and you hit on him.”

 

Tetsuya just stared mulishly at him, the equivalent of a confession to Hideaki.

 

There was nothing that could be said, as far as Hideaki was concerned. Tetsuya would mope for a bit and then get over Saionji’s ire and try again. Hideaki’s job, as Tetsuya’s best friend, was simple. He smirked.

 

“Beaten by the most mediocre PE student in the school,” he said slyly. “Either you’ve fallen in love or you’re about to lose your crown, _King_ -san.”

 

“Ahh, shut up, Hide,” Tetsuya got up, scowling at him. He pushed past Hideaki to head back onto the court.

 

“So which is it, Tet-chan?” Hideaki taunted as he followed his friend.

 

“Neither. Bitch has a mean hand,” Niwa snapped as he signalled for the ball to be thrown to him. “Are we doing this or not, Hide?”

 

Hideaki tutted and smiled. Job done.


	4. Chapter 4

The following afternoon, Hideaki ventured past the Treasury to pick up the paperwork that Tetsuya had dropped off to spectacular result the previous afternoon. Both Shichijo and Saionji were present in the Treasury office when he entered. As usual for his Treasury visits, he looked at Saionji and - despite having spent most of the previous day sitting within arm’s reach of the Treasury’s other member, he utterly ignored Shichijo.

 

“Saionji-san,” he greeted, unabashedly admiring the slender, effeminate, ridiculously pretty Second Year that was sitting behind the Treasury desk. He noted that Saionji’s right fist was wrapped up. “I understand that you have some documents for the Council.”

 

“You’re right,” Saionji replied. Hideaki noticed the boy shoot a quick, assessing look between him and Shichijo, who was sitting at the computer, before picking up a folder on his desk and coming over to hand it to him. “A word, Nakajima-senpai.” He walked out of the office, “I’ll be back in a bit, Omi.”

 

“Yes, Kaoru-kun.”

 

Curious, Hideaki followed the younger boy up the stairs and onto the deserted roof. There, Saionji turned to look at him. He was frowning.

 

“It was good of you to buy Omi’s lunch yesterday,” he said curtly.

 

Hideaki raised an eyebrow. _This_ was what Saionji wanted to talk to him about? “Is that what he told you?” he asked.

 

“Reluctantly, yes.”

 

Interesting. Hideaki smirked and readjusted his glasses. “I picked the restaurant,” he offered. He resisted adding that he was aware that Shichijo didn’t have a lot of money. Saionji was smart enough to know that he knew about Shichijo’s single neurotic mother/estranged rich foreign father/multiple step siblings abroad situation.

 

“Well, I wanted to thank you for being…” Saionji’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered his next words, “…civil to him yesterday.”

 

 _Civil? I ordered dessert on a whim and he almost came at the table._ Hideaki's smirk widened at the memory. For a brief while after leaving the restaurant, he had been contemplating delaying their return to the hospital and taking Shichijo somewhere private to give the pretty Dog a hand job.

 

“I also wanted to warn you against hurting him,” Saionji continued sharply, pulling Hideaki from his daydream.

 

Hideaki chuckled disdainfully. “You seem to be under the misapprehension that we were on a date yesterday.”

 

“Humph. And you weren’t?” the pink haired boy challenged. Hideaki didn’t respond to that and Saionji seemed to notice, the boy’s chin lifting slightly. “All I’m saying is that I take Omi’s life seriously because he is dear to me. So don’t hurt him.”

 

“Or what? I’ll regret it?” Hideaki purred. He grinned when Saionji’s frown deepened. “I’ll remind you that unlike you and Shichijo-kun, Tetsuya and I were elected to our positions by the student body. If the Treasury stopped talking to the Student Council, how would the Chairman resolve the issue?”

 

To his surprise, Saionji did more than shut up. The boy actually paled as he faltered. Hideaki observed his reaction with great interest. _If Shichijo did indeed cheat on his platinum paper, then drawing attention to how the Chairman hand picked Treasury members would definitely raise accusations of favouritism._

 

Tucking the folder against his chest, he put his other hand in his pocket. “I’ll see you later, _Treasurer_.” Then he turned and walked away.

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

Kaoru was seething when he came back to the Treasury later. He didn’t say anything, but Omi could easily tell, from seeing the tension in Kaoru’s shoulders to hearing the clattering of his tea ware as he made himself a very strong cup of Assam at entirely too late a time of day, that Nakajima had pressed a very, very big button of his friend’s.

 

“What is the matter, Kaoru?” he asked finally, when he saw that Kaoru, despite sitting at his desk, wasn’t doing any work and instead glaring blankly at the table.

 

“It’s that Nakajima,” Kaoru snapped, glancing at him. “He thinks we’re a joke.”

 

“We’re?” Omi echoed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Kaoru continued in an angry, sharp voice. He got up. “I’m going to my room,” he said abruptly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” So saying, he left the room, shutting the door with a snap behind him.

 

Omi stared at the door in bewilderment. What on earth had Nakajima said to him? And more confusingly, why was Kaoru not sharing the details of his complaint with him like he usually did?

 

But whatever it was that so bothered Kaoru, his friend’s ire had died down by the following day and school life continued as usual.

 

On Sunday, Omi once again went to see Nakajima. This time, Nakajima was more focussed on their project than he had been the previous Sunday. Indeed, he had divided up the project into tasks for each of them to complete before subsequent Sunday meetings and computer classes. Omi was quietly impressed by how swiftly the older boy had organised and planned the whole endeavour. Intimidated too.

 

Four weeks passed and the pacemaker project slowly began to come together. And now, Omi was far more irritated by Nakajima than impressed. It seemed to him that Nakajima was doing everything planning-wise and Omi grated at his own under-utilisation. Nowadays, the senior really only talked to Omi when he wanted to delegate tasks and although - yes - that meant that he was doing work, all of the work he was doing was relatively easy. Even the electrical engineering challenges weren’t all that challenging after Omi had finally gotten his head around the theory and spent a few hours fiddling with hardware in the academy workshop.

 

Nakajima hadn’t really flirted with him since that slightly bizarre restaurant lunch on their day trip to the hospital. He had received a few ambiguous insinuations, true, but Nakajima gave those to everyone. However, there was the fact that every time they worked together, Omi always seemed to receive an iced chocolate or ice cream from the older boy.

 

Each night, he kept a look out for Nakajima’s balcony light, and when he saw it flick on, he’d excitedly open his balcony door a little and lean against the door jamb to breathe in tendrils of the other’s cigarette smoke and wonder if tonight, he might be privy to more than Nakajima’s meditative exhalations and actually get to hear something of that deep voice that so affected him.

 

Rationally, he knew that he was only digging himself deeper into a bad habit. Emotionally and sexually, and especially now since he had started working with the older boy and was no longer seeing him as a rival, he was addicted. Even the faintest whiff of cigarette smoke now made him think of Nakajima’s lips, and of watching those lips touching iced teas and coffees during their project meetings. As for his voice, hearing it made Omi’s groin tingle and his hands shake.

 

Their relationship, however, was a boner-killer. Increasingly, Omi was feeling utterly useless in front of the other boy. Sometimes he thought Nakajima would prefer to work with a robot rather than him. Ironic, given the subject.

 

It was on the Sunday of this fourth week, after they had met and sat down in a deserted classroom to bring their work together, that Omi finally spoke up.

 

“Senpai,” he said quietly, during a lull when Nakajima was looking at code on his laptop, “I would like to contribute more to the project.”

 

The older student stopped typing and looked at him. The bright sunlight gleamed off his spectacles. “What’s the problem?”

 

“I feel… under utilised.”

 

Nakajima’s lips quirked slightly, as if he found something privately amusing in what Omi had just uttered. “Indeed.”

 

There was a brief silence. Omi sipped at his iced chocolate as he watched Nakajima’s face and awaited his response.

 

Finally, Nakajima looked back at his computer. “You’re in charge of the sensors.”

 

“Including choosing what they will be?”

 

“That and positioning and designing them. Will that…” he smirked a little, “… _satisfy_ you?”

 

Omi blinked. He couldn’t help the flush that entered his cheeks. He lowered his eyes. “Yes, that will do.”

 

“Tell me if you need more.”

 

“…Yes,” Omi assured him, pretending to ignore the double entendre and the knowing smirk on Nakajima’s face. He was fairly certain that Kaoru - if faced with the same blatant flirtation - would have given Nakajima a piece of his mind and stormed out of the room by now. Unlike Kaoru, however, Omi was both more reticent and a little turned on by the wordplay. “I’ll do that.”

 

That night, when he saw Nakajima’s balcony light turn on, he opened his balcony door and was gratified to hear voices below. Once again, Nakajima was entertaining King Niwa. Omi could smell more cigarette smoke than usual and guessed that the pair of them were at it.

 

“Oi, Hide, I went on the council computer today,” Niwa said cheerily.

 

“Dare I ask why?”

 

“Well, whilst you were out with Shichijo-kun, I remembered that when you guys went on that date… day trip, you said there was a master file to access in case of an emergency.

 

Nakajima made a noncommittal noise. “What of it?”

 

“Heh. It has Kaoru-chan’s phone number. Lucky!”

 

“Opportunistic of you, but didn’t he block your number?” Nakajima asked dubiously. There was a pause and then he said, warily, in a low voice, “Wait. You replaced your mobile after it got damaged during the MVP battle, didn’t you.”

 

Niwa laughed. “That’s right.”

 

“Have you contacted him yet?”

 

“That’s why I’m here. You’re going to help me, Four-Eyes. I was thinking: Kaoru-chan, how about a date? Tetsuya.”

 

“Apt,” Nakajima said sourly. “However, it’d be superfluous to add your name.”

 

“Eh? Oh, he’d know it was me from the chan bit, huh. But it suits him! Where’s my phone?” There was the sound of fumbling, then a clicking keypad, and then, “There, I’ve sent it,” Niwa announced, before laughing nervously. “I’ll have another black eye tomorrow.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

Another silence. Then, abruptly, Niwa queried, “Hey, so are you going out with Shichijo or what?”

 

Nakajima choked and coughed for a bit. “What? What gave you that idea?” he coughed finally.

 

Niwa chuckled. “That bad, huh? Well, you haven’t been trying to hack the Treasury computer recently. And I haven’t seen any good looking juniors visiting the School Council Room to make puppy eyes at you this term. Also, you’ve been in a very, very good mood on Wednesdays and Sundays. You should ask him out on another date - I mean, a proper date.”

 

Above, Omi’s breath hitched. So it seemed both Niwa _and_ Kaoru thought Nakajima was attracted to him. Suddenly, he felt a coil of excitement in his belly. And dread. Nakajima was _attracted_ to him, but hadn’t made a move on him. And Niwa was suggesting Nakajima, who had sex with many, but rarely went steady, take him on a date.

 

“We’re project partners, Tetsuya.”

 

Niwa chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not that dumb, Hide. Gimme your phone. Let’s get matching black eyes tomorrow. See how hard the cute halfie can punch. What’s your new password again? A jazz singer, right?” He yelped and there was a loud thud.

 

“Give. That. Back,” Nakajima said in a dangerously soft voice.

 

There was a long silence. Then Niwa suddenly yelped and then there was the sound of someone getting up and walking into the room below.

 

“You fucking tease,” grumbled the President from the balcony. Distantly, Omi heard Nakajima laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, after a relatively sleepless night, Omi was walking to breakfast with Kaoru when they unexpectedly crossed paths with Nakajima. The senior appeared to be returning to the dormitory from the dojo after karate practice. Usually, Nakajima did his practice earlier, but Omi knew that Niwa had stayed late chatting and smoking with his friend last night.

 

The older student looked even taller and broader in his white karate outfit, and Omi could see that his skin was damp. A bead of sweat was working its way down the senior’s left temple. As they drew within a few feet of each other and Nakajima looked at him, he caught a whiff of the other boy’s sweat and he felt his penis suddenly twitch with distinct interest. He flushed.

 

“Morning, Nakajima-senpai,” Kaoru stopped and greeted the Vice President, whose pace slowed.

 

“Saionji-kun.” But unlike when Nakajima visited the Treasury, today the older boy barely looked at Kaoru. Omi realised with a coil of dread, which oddly made him feel more aroused, that Nakajima was observing him closely, his eyes even openly swept him up and down as he neared. Had Nakajima noticed?

 

“Nakajima-senpai,” Omi greeted softly when the older boy was almost on top of them. It seemed Nakajima had decided to pass them on Omi’s side.

 

Nakajima smirked. “Omi.” And stopped at his side, slightly in front of him.

 

Omi suddenly felt very, very hot. Nakajima was looking down at him, openly staring at his blush and at his very disobedient and slutty arousal. Oh, Gods. He wanted to die right now. And Kaoru was watching too.

 

“You look especially good this morning,” Nakajima said softly, near his ear. He was still looking at Omi’s erection. His eyes suddenly swept up to give him eye contact. “I’d like to have you for breakfast.”

 

 _And I would love to be yours_ , Omi couldn’t help thinking.

 

“Come find me if you want help with that.” And then, after another pointed look at Omi’s pants, the Third Year, smirking, continued walking back to the dormitory.

 

There was a silence. Not wanting to turn around himself, Omi watched Kaoru stare after Nakajima. After a minute or so, his friend looked at him and hissed, “What was that all about?”

 

“Uh… sorry, Kaoru-kun.”

 

Omi suddenly noticed that there was a blush on Kaoru’s cheeks. “Come to the bathroom,” his friend snapped, and - grabbing Omi’s arm - he turned away to begin stalking across the grass - heading towards the toilets attached to the science building.

 

Once inside the deserted bathroom, Kaoru pushed Omi towards one of the stalls. “Go on.”

 

Omi obediently went into one of the stalls and closed the door behind him. He undid the belt of his pants, unzipped himself, and then - uncomfortable with the silence in the room - hesitated. “Kaoru-kun.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could you wait outside?”

 

“Yes… wait, no!” And then there was the sound of Kaoru’s approaching feet and suddenly, to Omi’s shock, Kaoru was knocking on the stall door. “Let me in.”

 

“I’m half naked!”

 

“I’ve seen it before,” Kaoru snapped. “Let me in right now, Omi!”

 

Omi flicked the lock and suddenly Kaoru was inside, shutting the door, and pressing up against him in the tight cubicle. His hair brushed against Omi’s cheek, smelling of flowery shampoo and conditioner. He felt small and warm and his hand was too - burying into Omi’s open pants and pulling out his erection.

 

“What are you doing?” Omi yelped.

 

“Practicing for that fucking oaf!” And then Kaoru was pulling him off, and Omi came hard moments later.

 

“You’re going out with Niwa?” he asked confusedly. He watched Kaoru wipe his hand clean on some toilet tissue before attentively bending slightly to dry his softened penis and tuck it away.

 

Kaoru looked up at him, his green eyes suddenly anxious. “I was going to tell you,” he said, “but he only asked me out late last night.”

 

“How?”

 

“By text message. He changed his number,” Kaoru said as he unlocked the stall door and they trooped out. “Kaoru- _chan_ , how about a date. Huh.” He began washing his hands, tutting when he found the soap dispenser next to his chosen sink empty.

 

Omi pressed down on the dispenser next to another sink a few times and reached over to drip his handful of liquid soap onto Kaoru’s hands. “You said yes?” he asked as he began washing his own hands.

 

Kaoru shot him an incredulous look. “No, I told him no. But then he rang me and asked me out civilly… and I said yes.”

 

“That’s not like you.”

 

Kaoru huffed as he went over to the hand towelette to pat dry his hands. “I suppose I felt bad about giving him that black eye. The Chairman called me to say I actually broke a bone around Niwa’s eye when you were out with Nakajima last Sunday.” He waited until Omi had dried his hands and checked his appearance in the mirror, and then they left and resumed heading to the breakfast hall. “Omi, what are you going to do about Nakajima?”

 

“I don’t know,” Omi said honestly.

 

“You obviously like him. And he quite clearly likes teasing you. Is he serious about you?”

 

Omi flushed. That was what he was worried about. Kaoru, on seeing his expression, pursed his lips.

 

“Go and see him after class today,” he said. “That politics assignment is bothering you, right? That’s his best subject. Ask him for help with it.”

 

Omi swallowed. “I’m not…” He trailed off, words failing him. He was scared, basically.

 

Kaoru seemed to read his expression. His friend smiled at him. “You’ll be fine,” he said softly.

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

“Oi, Hide.”

 

That afternoon, Hideaki looked up from where he was sitting working behind the Student Council Office desk to look first at Tetsuya, who he had last seen lounging on the sofa with his laptop, to follow his friend’s gaze to the open door.

 

Shichijo was standing there, smiling that little polite smile that told nothing. Hideaki eyed him curiously for a few moments, and then rose and walked over to him. He stepped right up to the door jamb, close enough to see Shichijo shiver slightly. “You want something?” he asked quietly.

 

“I’m not sure,” Shichijo replied.

 

 _Interesting_. Hideaki smirked and reached out to pull Shichijo’s shirt free from his pants. He slid his hand beneath the layers of material - vest, shirt… until he felt skin, and then he slid his hand around the Second Year’s waist and drew him closer until their chests touched and he could feel the shake in Shichijo’s breathing and the younger boy’s interest stiffening against his thigh.

 

“How about now?” he purred. He shifted his hand to lightly scratch Shichijo’s back and was rewarded when Shichijo actually squeaked and fumbled slightly as if both trying to pull away and also get closer. There was a lovely pink colour blossoming on the junior’s cheeks. Behind them, Hideaki heard Tetsuya clear his throat and get up to walk further away, towards the desk. _Good. Maybe he’ll actually do some work today._

 

“I… yes,” Shichijo admitted finally, and his body seemed to relax with his admission. Hideaki ran his fingernails down his back a second time, savouring how Shichijo trembled in his arms. Despite all that ice cream, his body wasn’t as soft as Hideaki had suspected, but it was a little, and Hideaki liked the pliancy. Although Shichijo wasn’t a woman and Hideaki was well aware of the other’s ruthlessly cruel streak from their hacking battles, he suddenly felt less inclined to treat him as roughly as he usually treated his sexual partners.

 

For example, this called for a different venue.

 

“Tetsuya,” he called back.

 

“Um… yep?” Tetsuya sounded both distracted and a little wary.

 

“I might not be back. Something’s come up.” He smirked at Shichijo, who wasn’t looking at him, but was still practically buried against him and very, _very_ hard.

 

“I’ll say,” Tetsuya grumbled.

 

Hideaki chuckled and separated his body from Shichijo’s to begin straightening the junior’s clothing a bit. _Can’t have everyone see him looking this cute._ He winked at the other boy. “Come with me.”

 

They walked back to the dormitories. Initially, Shichijo made to fall back and follow Hideaki, but when Hideaki glared at him, he seemed to get the message as he drew alongside him and they walked the rest of the way with their sleeves occasionally touching.

 

Once in the dormitory, Hideaki showed him into his room, shook his head at Shinomiya who - always alert to potential trouble in the hall - was watching them from the foyer, then entered and shut and locked the door.

 

He turned to see Shichijo standing in his bedroom, looking distinctly awkward. And adorable and very overdressed as far as Hideaki was concerned.

 

“Forgive me for not getting you another sweet,” Hideaki commented as he approached him. “But I think you might have come before we got here if I had.”

 

“I’m not a girl, Nakajima-senpai.”

 

Hideaki laughed. Another line from Saionji. “Hide,” he corrected, taking off his blazer and hanging it up. He reached for Shichijo’s and was pleased when the junior followed suit and handed him his blazer. After hanging that up too, Hideaki walked over and guided Shichijo to the bed, pushing him down, one hand at the neck of his tie for leverage.

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

Omi stared up at Nakajima. Although he was almost as tall as the older boy when standing, it seemed that when lying beneath him, Nakajima was far taller and broader than him. His hands and mouth and body certainly seemed to be everywhere.

 

 _Certainly, he’s done this before_ , he thought, and then he wondered: _Should I have listened to Kaoru? Can I really trust this smirking, arrogant, playboy type?_ And then, when he felt fingernails raking down his flanks and grip his hips - when _had_ his trousers and underpants come off? When had Nakajima shifted between his legs? - his breath hitched and he lost his train of thought, gasping when his cock was suddenly engulfed by that hot, wet, cutting mouth, which proceeded to deep throat him. He couldn’t see Nakajima’s face like this, was all he thought, and all he could feel besides that searing warmth was the deep quilt crumpled beneath his palms. And then his orgasm struck and he slumped, staring bonelessly up at the ceiling, for a few seconds his mind completely still.

 

A deep chuckle pulled him from his meditation, and as he looked down, he saw Nakajima - shirtless - crawl up over him to straddle him and begin unfastening Omi’s shirt. The other boy was broad and sinewy. Omi hadn’t seen him naked since the swim day at the start of the year and he hadn’t sought to admire him then. Now he stared dazedly, raptured by the smoothness and assuredness of the older boy’s movements, at the visible erection through the older boy’s trousers.

 

Nakajima grinned at him and leaned down to kiss him firmly. His mouth tasted like Omi’s spend.

 

“You’ve a sweet voice,” he said when he drew back. His voice was husky. “But disappointing endurance. We’ll have to work on that.” He pecked him lightly. “Lie still. I want to play with you.”

 

“What?” But Omi understood when he felt warm fingers grasp his left nipple and pinch him. Hard. He yelped and would have withdrawn were not for Nakajima straddling him and the older boy’s other hand pressing into the centre of his chest. He huffed, too tired still from cumming to verbally protest. Above him, Nakajima smirked at his expression and bent his head to the smarting nipple to lave the inflamed site with his tongue. His free hand, meanwhile, drifted down to explore Omi’s left flank - rubbing, pinching lightly, and scratching as it drifted across his abdomen, side, and hip. At every flinch, every minute shudder, the hand would pause and retrace its path to identify the source of sensitivity, and Nakajima would glance down at his fingertips and then back - amusedly - to meet Omi’s eyes. After a while, he swapped his hands to explore Omi’s right side. And by now, Omi was hard again, huffing quietly under the older boy’s handling, his own hands gripping Nakajima’s thighs, still too nervous to reach out and touch the clothed erection facing him.

 

He must have been staring at it, though, because Nakajima then said, quietly, “Are you just going to look at it?”

 

Omi blinked and looked up at the other’s face. His face burned. “I’ve never done this before.”

 

Nakajima snorted, smirking. “You’re so cute.” Leaning down, he kissed Omi again and then leaned across him to open the topmost drawer of the bedside table. “Let’s do something else, then.” A tube of lube landed on the bed near Omi’s head, closely followed by a condom. Then Nakajima grabbed a pillow, settled back between Omi’s legs, and - with a lift and shove - Omi’s rear was raised to face him.

 

Omi flushed harder. This was beyond embarrassing, but his penis - slut that it was - surged. He looked up at the ceiling. He heard Nakajima’s belt clasp open and the slide of trousers as Nakajima shucked them. Then the ripping open of a plastic packet and for a few seconds, silence. Then a hand squeezed the underside of his thigh, warm and steady, slippery and cold with lube. Moist lips brushed lightly against his raised left kneecap.

 

Omi looked down at his lover. He glanced at Nakajima’s erection, which was jutting stiffly out between the older boy’s broad thighs. It was bigger than he had expected. He was surprised at his lack of nervousness. _This guy has done it before and his lovers always come back to him. He knows what he’s doing. He’s probably the best sex tutor in the school by that standard._

 

He looked up at Nakajima’s face. The other boy was smiling slightly. “This might be uncomfortable, Omi. But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me if it does and I’ll slow down.” He leaned forward, then paused and added, his smirk widening, “You look magnificent, by the way.”

 

That seemed to break the ice. Omi chuckled nervously, and - with a light laugh - Nakajima slid two slick fingers straight inside of his entrance. His movements were slow, but purposeful, his digits twisting and scissoring inside the intimate space. Every now and again, he glanced at Omi’s flushed face, as if to check that he still had permission for what he was doing and about to do, and that he wasn’t causing him too much pain. After what must have been a few minutes, he added a third finger.

 

It wasn’t _painful_ , but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either, was Omi’s initial assessment. Certainly, he didn’t find it pleasurable and it was only thanks to Nakajima’s other hand wrapping around his erection and massaging him gently that his discomfort didn’t cause his hardness to wilt.

 

But then the fingers inside him suddenly crooked at an angle and brushed up against something deep inside his channel that made Omi jerk and cry out. His penis twitched; he clutched at the sheets.

 

Nakajima laughed lowly and, just as he had done earlier with his exploration of Omi’s flanks, now he began teasing this area inside of him, rubbing over this newfound spot over and over again until Omi was twisting against the bedsheets and sweating, huffing barely audible curses, his erection jerking of its own accord. “Very, very nice. Kohai,” he commented. His voice had changed, become rougher, Omi thought, and then he suddenly he wasn’t pondering sounds anymore as he suddenly felt something _else_ , something _bigger_ at his entrance. It pushed into him - long and deep - and abruptly pain - raw and shuddering and sharp - encompassed his entire awareness. He squirmed, tensing, huffing, eyes tearing, as Nakajima withdrew slightly. _Hadn’t he said that it wouldn’t hurt? He had lied! The bastard had... Oh! But he had to tell him that it hurt for him to know…_

 

And then Nakajima thrust back into him and brushed up against that place that made a thrill of delight ripple up Omi’s spine, and Omi's fears subsided. And then the Vice President did it again and again. And Omi was murmuring and gasping now in helpless pleasure and pulling the older boy closer to him, clutching tightly at those warm, damp, tense limbs. And then that wave of ecstasy had come again and with a cry, he fell back to the bed. He felt Nakajima stiffen against him shortly afterwards.

 

Nakajima withdrew, pulled off the condom - chucking it across the room at the bin: into which, to Omi’s amusement, it landed exactly, and then the older boy crawled off him. Easing the pillow out from Omi’s behind, he plumped it at the head of the bed beside Omi’s and lay down beside him on his back.

 

Omi rolled over and nosed his shoulder, and was surprised and pleased when Nakajima snorted and put his arm around him, running his hand carelessly through Omi’s hair.

 

They stayed like that for a while, maybe twenty minutes. As he nuzzled against the older boy, Omi absently scanned the side of the room beyond Nakajima: the orderly bookshelves, the CD player surrounded by jazz CDs, the family photo frame on the desk of a middle-aged man and woman, a younger woman and Hideaki looking a little younger than he was now.

 

Nakajima didn’t sleep or talk to him. He occasionally pressed a kiss to the top of Omi’s head, but he looked like he was battling falling asleep. Omi wouldn’t have minded if he had fallen asleep - he would have gladly fallen asleep next to him.

 

But then Nakajima suddenly rose and went to the bathroom. Minutes after he had disappeared into the room, Nakajima's phone rang in the pocket of his pants on the floor. Omi leaned over and retrieved the device. It was Kurosawa. He answered it just as the phone's owner came out of the bathroom.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hideaki-kun?”

 

“No, it’s Shichijo-san, Sir. I’m with Nakajima-senpai now. No, he’s here.” He held out the phone to the older boy, who frowned and held it to his ear. Omi flopped down onto his back.

 

“Nakajima. Yes. No, it’s not a good time.” He glanced at Omi and smirked at him. “Shichijo and I are working on the project. We’ll be occupied for a while.” He sat down on the bed beside Omi and reached out to begin playing with his nipples, his smirk widening when Omi whimpered.

 

“It’s going well,” Nakajima continued, his eyes not leaving Omi’s. “We’re hoping to run the prototype through simulations the Wednesday after next. I’m waiting on the hospital for approval and will check with the Chairman after I’ve obtained their consent, but I don’t anticipate any problems.” His hand slid down to wrap around Omi’s stiffening cock and he began jerking him off.

 

“Yes. Really? I’m surprised to hear that you found nothing. I agree; that’s the only alternative. I’ll speak to you later.” Then he turned off the phone and climbed back onto the bed. “Now,” he said quietly, “let’s see you make that cute face again.”

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

Shichijo slept overnight in his room. Early the next morning, Hideaki shortened his karate practice and - on his way to breakfast (Omi had returned to his own room to freshen up) - went to see Kurosawa in the man’s office before classes started.

 

The teacher was preparing quizzes for the Second Years. He looked up and smiled when he saw Hideaki standing at the door of his office. “Nakajima-kun,” he greeted.

 

“Apologies. Shichijo and I worked late, and I didn’t want to arouse his suspicions,” Hideaki said by way of an excuse as he approached. “I’m sorry that you had no luck finding anything incriminating on the Treasury computer.”

 

Kurosawa scratched his balding head. “Yes, well everything must be on his personal laptop. You said that he has had it for at least four years, so it might be the one he used to hack with prior to coming to the academy. Does he ever leave it around?”

 

Hideaki frowned. _Last night he did, although he left it in a locked room that even Shinomiya can’t get into with his master key card._ “Rarely.”

 

“Well, we’ll need to have a look at it, Nakajima-kun,” the teacher said thoughtfully. “Even if we don’t find evidence of hacking into BL Academy’s admission papers, we’ll at least find the original malware programs that periodically cripple the Student Council Office’s computer. That should be enough to question his admission here in the board’s eyes, though it’d be ideal if his grades were poorer.”

 

Nakajima glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d have to head to breakfast soon or Tetsuya… and perhaps Omi too, would question his whereabouts.

 

“Japanese is his worst subject,” he revealed. “Also, last night he mentioned struggling with a politics essay that’s worth a significant percentage of his grade for the year. It’s due on Friday.”

 

“I’ll look into it,” Kurosawa said. “I’d like you to work on obtaining his computer.” He tutted. “You should go before anyone notices anything amiss.”

 

Nakajima nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

Omi’s week went very pleasantly initially. After hooking up with Nakajima on the Monday afternoon, they subsequently spent all of Wednesday evening together as well, once again on Nakajima’s bed. The older boy was a generous lover and extremely frisky, even more frisky than he had expected. So frisky that by the time he remembered that he wanted to ask the older boy for help with his Politics essay, as Kaoru had suggested to him, he was too worn out to be bothered with homework.

 

Everything started to go wrong on Thursday afternoon, when he showed up for Japanese class - his worst subject - and discovered that they would be tested on what they had learned that term the very next day. Additionally, he still hadn’t finished his Politics essay.

 

As luck would have it, both Kaoru _and_ Nakajima were busy that evening. Kaoru had treasury work to finish and Nakajima had disappeared off to a last minute family gathering in town. It was a disaster. Omi barely slept as he panicked to get everything prepared and finalised before Friday morning.

 

By Friday afternoon, he was feeling quite ill. He knew that he hadn’t done well at all on either the quiz or the essay. He was sitting working in the Treasury, quite alone today as Kaoru had been asked to meet Niwa at the seaside, and feeling rather sorry for himself, when Nakajima came into the room.

 

“You didn’t answer my message,” the older boy remonstrated as he walked over to him. He sat down in the armchair - Kaoru’s chair - and looked critically at him. “You’re miserable. What is it?”

 

Omi forced his usual smile, but - for some reason - it just wouldn’t stay on his face. “I’m a little worried about my grades,” he admitted finally.

 

Nakajima blinked. Then he pressed his lips together, sighed, and pushed his glasses up a little. “Should I leave to let you study?” he asked. “Or do you want help?”

 

“Thank you, but no. I’ve already handed in the assessments. I’m waiting for the results, but I’m afraid they won’t be any good,” Omi clarified.

 

Nakajima nodded. “How’s your work on the pacemaker sensors coming along?” he asked, getting up and going over to the window to look outside.

 

Omi smiled at his broad back. Now that work, he was pleased about. “It’ll be ready before Wednesday,” he said. “Will we be visiting the hospital again?”

 

“Yes. The Chairman has consented to another day trip.” Nakajima turned slightly to look at him. “You’re backing up your data on the project, aren’t you.”

 

Omi frowned, a bit confused by the question. “Of course. It’s on an external hard drive,” he reassured, smiling. “I suppose Tetsuya used to forget?”

 

Nakajima nodded and looked back out of the window. “Frequently.”

 

There was a silence.

 

“What are you doing on Sunday evening?” Nakajima asked.

 

Omi snorted. “I’ll be panicking about finishing our pacemaker and running it through simulations,” he said. “Why?”

 

“It’ll take all day, won’t it,” Nakajima said, looking back at him. He looked a little irritated and he adjusted his glasses slightly as he looked sidelong at Omi. “How about, on the Sunday after next, if we have not resumed our hacker battles in the wake of our project, we go on a proper date?”

 

Omi smiled and knew he was blushing too. “I’d like that,” he said. _That’d be really, really nice._

 

He continued to think of the idea as really, really nice until he got up on Monday morning after spending the night in Nakajima’s bed and discovered, upon returning to his own room to shower and get dressed for the day, that his laptop was missing.

 

There was only one person who could have taken his laptop and that was Nakajima, who had left him alone that morning - stating that he had karate practice - about half an hour before Omi had gotten up.

 

It was when Omi went to the dojo and discovered that Nakajima hadn’t shown up for practice that morning that he began to suspect that something bad was about to happen. He messaged Kaoru, who had gone ahead to breakfast without him, to see if Nakajima had shown there at all.

 

 _He’s not here_ , was Kaoru’s reply a few minutes later. _What’s wrong?_

 

 _He’s taken my laptop,_ Omi replied, already hurrying to the breakfast hall. When he arrived, Kaoru - looking very worried - was standing outside waiting for him. Beside him stood Niwa.

 

“Hey, Omi. What’s going on?” Niwa asked, looking confused. “Kaoru said Nakajima took off with your laptop without telling you. Is that right?”

 

It was, but that wasn’t the problem. “It has some sensitive data on it,” Omi said vaguely.

 

He looked around when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Shinomiya. The dormitory head smiled at them all and then handed Omi a slip. “Shichijo-san,” he said quietly. “The Chairman wants to see you in his meeting room later this morning.”

 

Omi nodded, his mouth too dry and his head too confused with panicked thoughts to formulate words.

 

As requested on the slip Shinomiya had handed to him, at ten o’clock Omi headed alone to the Chairman’s meeting room. Kazuki was there at the head of the table, as was Mr. Kurosawa and a few of the board members. There was a pained smile on Kazuki’s face as he greeted Omi and told him to take a seat.

 

“Kurosawa-sensei,” Kazuki said then, looking at the teacher. “Please repeat your concerns to the board so that Shichijo-kun here may hear of what he is being accused.”

 

“As you wish, Chairman-shacho, though as you all know, the evidence speaks for itself. Shichijo-kun is a failing student who - I personally believe - should never have been admitted to this academy. There are inconsistencies between his platinum paper submission and the grade recorded on the academy’s score sheet, which I have sent to the Japanese Education Committee for investigation. Additionally, his grades have been average at best, failing at worst as his last two assessments testify.”

 

“Your politics essay and Friday’s Japanese test, Shichijo-kun,” Kazuki clarified in his quiet voice. “Kurosawa-sensei, I understand your concerns, but Shichijo-kun here is hardly the first student to have been accepted with decent grades and then performed less well on subsequent assessment.”

 

“True, but he is the only student, Ito Keita aside, to have been accepted with average grades without an outstanding talent.”

 

“What about his skill with computers?” Kazuki questioned. Omi noticed that the young man - truly professional at work - didn’t even blink at the reference to his boyfriend, Keita. “I understand that he is currently designing a pacemaker for AI Hospital and that that project is going very well.”

 

“Yes, however, I paired him with Nakajima Hideaki, the best computer studies student in the school. On your request, I might add,” Kurosawa replied coolly. “It is my understanding that Nakajima-kun is doing most of the programming.”

 

 _That was true._ And it was because Omi was doing all of the electrical engineering and only doing computer related tasks when he specifically requested them of Nakajima. Omi suddenly felt like he had been punched. His hands clenched into fists.

 

“There are also reports that Shichijo, intermittently since coming to the school, has been designing malware programs - viruses and trojans - as a kind of game to upset the Student Council,” Kurosawa continued.

 

The Chairman was now looking very worried. “Can you prove either of these claims?” he asked.

 

“I’m working on his laptop currently,” Kurosawa said. “I’ll have the results by the end of tomorrow.”

 

Kazuki nodded. “Thank you. Come and see me when you have the data.” He looked at Shichijo. “Shichijo-kun, please go back to class for now. I will contact you later.”

 

Omi rose, bowed, and silently left the room. Feeling a little dazed, he went to a nearby bathroom to splash water on his face. After drying his face, he took out his phone and tapped out a message to Kaoru. His hands were shaking.

 

_Meeting just finished. Kurosawa trying to get me expelled._

 

He sent the message, then pocketed the phone. Moments later, he jumped when the phone buzzed angrily. It was Kaoru. He flicked it open.

 

“What do you mean by expelled?” his friend exploded.

 

Omi winced and turned the phone’s volume down. He left the bathroom and headed down the deserted hall, quietly relating what had occurred in the meeting.

 

“I’m going to kill Nakajima,” Kaoru promised. “What about Kazuki? Didn’t he say anything about taking your computer without consent?”

 

“I don’t think he knew that Nakajima took it,” Omi said. “I’m still assuming it was him.”

 

“It was. Niwa messaged me after you left,” Kaoru said, changing the subject. “He said that he asked Nakajima and that Nakajima admitted to taking your laptop.”

 

“Ah.” That was all Omi had to say on the matter. Had it all been a lie, then? Flirting with him, not hacking the treasury any more, smiling whilst working with him, having sex with… He ducked behind a garden hedge when he felt tears prick his eyes. Damn it! He was going to cry.

 

_That bastard. All for what? He really hates me that much for cheating?_

 

He wiped at his face with his hands and waited until he felt calmer. Then he continued trudging back to class, detouring on the way to wash his face. By tomorrow, he supposed he’d know the board’s verdict. And even if they did consent to keep him, if the problems with his platinum paper reached the national committee, what would the academy’s official statement be? A top school consenting to keep a mediocre student would not go down well at all.


	7. Chapter 7

Hideaki wasn’t used to Tetsuya being angry with him. They hadn’t been enemies since First Year, when they had frequently fought and then - upon actually trying to physically beat each other to pulp - found themselves equally matched. Since then, they had both swallowed their pride and worked on tolerating each other, eventually becoming best friends to everyone’s surprise, not least of all their own.

 

However, and understandably, it seemed like that friendship was all on the rocks right now.

 

“I’m going to stick with you on this, Hide, because you’re my friend and I trust that somewhere in this mess, you’ve done something really good,” Tetsuya said tersely as he paced up and down in the Student Council Office during lunch. “At least, I seriously hope you’re doing this for a reason other than sheer vindictive bullheadedness.” Neither of them had gone to the cafeteria to eat: Hideaki didn’t want to risk seeing Shichijo and so had pre-arranged for Shunsuke to deliver his lunch; Tetsuya had not yet eaten as he wanted to avoid seeing Saionji and having to announce that he was picking his best friend over his new boyfriend.

 

No need, apparently, as the Student Council office door suddenly banged open and Saionji stormed in. Shichijo, Hideaki noticed beyond the approaching Saionji’s shoulder, had been following his pink-haired friend, but didn’t enter the room. Instead the junior stood on the threshold, not looking at any of them, his eyes lowered.

 

The slap echoed loudly in the room. Hideaki didn’t try to duck away from it. It was the least he deserved, after all.

 

“You stay the hell away from us,” Saionji seethed. “And you too,” he added, glancing disgustedly at Tetsuya, who had taken a step towards him. “I see you’ve chosen your side.”

 

“Kaoru…”

 

“Don’t speak to me so familiarly!” the Treasurer snapped. He turned and glared hatefully at Hideaki. “This isn't the end of this, Nakajima.” Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

 

Hideaki reached up and took off his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, then dropped it to cradle his smarting cheek.

 

“Hurts a bitch, doesn’t it,” Tetsuya said, with a weak laugh. “Better than his punch, though.”

 

Hideaki smirked. “That’s true.” At least he hadn't received a black eye.

 

There was a pause during which they both smiled stupidly at each other. And then Tetsuya sighed and flung himself down on the sofa. “Hey, Hide, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

 

“Later,” Hideaki said quietly. “I want to see how it pans out first.”

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

It was late afternoon on the following day - Tuesday - when Omi finally received the summons to the Chairman’s office.

 

On arriving there, he was surprised to find only Kazuki there. Also, the Chairman was smiling broadly. Before him on the desk rested Omi’s laptop. With relief, Omi knew that he would be hearing good news.

 

“Welcome, Shichijo-kun,” Kazuki said. “You’ll be glad to hear that I’ve spoken with both your politics and Japanese teachers and they’re happy to let you reattempt the assessments on account of a stressful week…” he trailed off, letting sink in the implication of the fact that Omi hadn’t actually been under any especial stress until yesterday and that Kazuki was basically giving him a free pass.

 

“As for your laptop, I’m sorry that it was confiscated and I’m sure that having it back will help you with your studies. Please take it.”

 

Omi frowned. Was Kazuki saying that Kurosawa hadn’t found anything damning on his laptop? “I hope my laptop helped you with your enquiry,” he said pointedly as he stepped forward and picked up the device, tucking the beloved machine under his arm.

 

The Chairman smiled broadly. “Yes, it was a great help in clearing suspicions regarding those malware programs from your name. Good luck with the rest of the pacemaker project. I look forward to seeing the promising results. You’ll be heading to AI Hospital tomorrow with Nakajima-kun for the simulation, I take it?”

 

“...Yes. Everything is ready,” Omi assured him. And everything _was_ ready. He and Nakajima had finished everything on Sunday night.

 

“Excellent. Keep up the good work, Shichijo-kun.”

 

“Sir, what about the problem with my platinum paper that was reported to the national board?”

 

Kazuki shrugged. “I withdrew it. I see no reason to call into question the abilities of an exceptional computer studies student.” He winked. And like that, Omi was dismissed.

 

Mystified, he left the office and went straight to the Student Council Office to find Nakajima. Only Niwa was there, however.

 

“Nakajima’s in the dojo,” the President of the Student Council told him, frowning slightly. “So you found your laptop?”

 

“Yes.” A thought suddenly struck Omi and, frowning, he set the laptop down on the desk and turned it on. After logging in, he began browsing through his files and folders, checking his documents and then - finally - the system files. His frown deepened as he worked.

 

Finally, he snapped the machine shut and, tucking it back under his arm, left the office.

 

“Oi, Omi, wait up.”

 

He blinked and looked behind him. Niwa was following him. “You’re coming with me?” he asked.

 

Niwa grinned sheepishly. “Well, despite what he’s done, Hide is still my friend. I’ll let you punch him, but not kill him, okay?”

 

Omi blinked. “He’d win a fight against me,” he pointed out.

 

“No,” Niwa said, a note of certainty in his voice, “he wouldn’t.” He slapped Omi on the back, making the junior wince. “Hide wouldn’t fight you; he wouldn't risk hurting you. He likes you too much.”

 

Omi decided not to comment and they walked the rest of the way to the dojo in silence. Upon entering, he saw Nakajima on the far side of the hall, tackling a junior. Shinomiya was standing nearby, also in karate uniform, his arms folded as he watched the match carefully. When Omi entered the hall, he saw Shinomiya glance up. The Third Year frowned at him.

 

Nakajima had yet to notice them, but it wasn’t long. After neatly flipping his opponent to the mats, the senior looked up and saw him. Straightening, he went over to Shinomiya and the pair spoke briefly. Shinomiya nodded and stepped onto the mat, gesturing for another junior to come forward and tackle him.

 

Nakajima stepped out of the group and walked out of a door on the far side of the hall. Omi followed him. Niwa did too. The President halted at the door way and leaned against the jamb, arms folded. Outside, he found the senior drinking water out of a faucet in a small paved area where bicycles were parked. No one else was out there. Nakajima glanced at him, then continued drinking. When he had finished, he straightened and turned off the tap. Turning, he regarded Omi.

 

“What is it, Kohai?” he asked.

 

Omi flushed. So they were back to being impersonal. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were helping me?” he asked seriously.

 

Nakajima frowned and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “For the same reason that I’ve refrained from telling you that I know you live above me and like to spy on me when I smoke. Shichijo-kun,” he said quietly. “You’re a terrible actor.”

 

Oh. Was he really? Wait. He had _known_?

 

Nakajima saw his doubtful expression and clarified, “Hiding your strong feelings isn’t easy for you. Your…” he glanced at the open door of the dojo, which Niwa was both blocking and guarding, “… _opponent_ is skilled at detecting lies and he has been chasing you for a long time. If you want to be left alone, you need to fool him. Appearing smug or indifferent wouldn’t have helped your case.”

 

Omi swallowed. “Well,” he said finally, “thank you for saving me from the board.” He bowed formally.

 

“You’re welcome. It was an entertaining diversion, and the project has been worthwhile.” Nakajima’s eyes narrowed at him, “You _are_ accompanying me tomorrow to the hospital, aren’t you?”

 

“Considering I’ve done half of the programming, as per this laptop that is supposedly mine, it’s only right that I do so,” Omi replied, smiling. Awkwardly, he walked up to the older boy and reached out with his free hand to feel the material of the karate top between finger and thumb. It felt light and smooth. “Where is my real laptop, by the way?” he asked. He slid his hand underneath the top to seek out Nakajima’s skin, smooth and sinewy, and so warm.

 

Nakajima's eyes had become hooded. “Omi, it’s safe.”

 

“May I have it back?” Omi asked dubiously. Despite the lovely work that Nakajima had done with this duplicate computer, he really did want his baby with all its implicating stored history back.

 

“That depends.” Nakajima smirked at him. “Will you let me take you out to dinner on Sunday?”

 

“Of course. I wasn’t aware that that was in dispute,” Omi retorted with a smile. “Besides,” he added quietly. “You hacked my computer. You must know by now that I won’t let you get away with doing that.”

 

Nakajima chuckled and wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close so that they were touching chest to chest. “Oh Omi,” he said softly, dangerously, “I’m counting on it.”

 

NHSO//NHSO//NHSO//NHSO

 

Sunday night found them at yet another expensive Japanese restaurant by the seaside. Upon entering the restaurant, however, Hideaki was bemused to realise that they weren’t the only student couple dining there from Bell Liberty Academy. On the other side of the room, on a lower level in a booth seat, sat none other than Tetsuya and Saionji. They were talking animatedly or rather, as Omi - when Hideaki pointed them out to his boyfriend - described it: quarrelling.

 

“Should we wager on whether Kaoru-kun will hit him?” Omi asked as they watched the dispute grow more heated.

 

“No,” Hideaki said amusedly. “Tetsuya’s going to back down and Saionji will reassure him.” He was right: a minute later Tetsuya raised his hands in frustration and proceeded to sulk, and then Saionji, alarmed by his own overly vicious and hastily said words, slid across the seat and sat right next to Tetsuya so that they were touching side to side and - from the looks of it - holding hands under the table.

 

“You’re good at reading relationships,” Omi observed. “Your experience makes me a bit jealous.” Under the table, he ran a foot against Hideaki’s calf.

 

Hideaki cleared his throat. “I better order dessert sooner rather than later.”

 

Shortly afterwards, they were waiting for dessert to arrive when Saionji and Tetsuya came over, having apparently both finished dinner and noticed them. The pair looked flushed and happy and were almost holding hands in the public space, they were standing so close, Hideaki noticed with amusement.

 

“This is a coincidence,” Saionji remarked. “We came over to say hello.”

 

“We’re going for a walk on the beach afterwards,” Tetsuya said. “You’re not welcome, but if you do decide to do the same, please be discreet about what you may see.” He yelped when Saionji, scowling, pinched him on the arm. “Ai! Kaoru-chan.”

 

Saionji twisted his fingers, causing tears to come to Tetsuya’s eyes, and then let him go. Smiling at both Hideaki and Shichijo, he said, “You’re very welcome to join us because nothing perverse is going to happen. Nothing like that at all! Are you just finishing up?”

 

And then dessert arrived at the table and Saionji’s smile faded when he saw the spread of ice cream, mousse, cream, mashed up meringue, cheesecake and glazed fruit that comprised Hideaki’s dessert order.

 

“Are you seriously going to eat all of that?” Saionji asked abruptly, looking at Omi.

 

Omi faltered and, although his silver haired boyfriend was still smiling, Hideaki saw that Omi's smile was now forced. He looked irritatedly at Saionji. Omi was _his_ date and he wasn't Saionji’s fucking knight or slave or whatever the student body might call him, and in addition to liking Omi’s little bit of softness, he loved seeing Omi get deliriously happy about pretty desserts.

 

“Saionji-kun,” he said quietly, warningly, “my extremely handsome boyfriend needs all the energy he can get. Because I am very, _very_ perverse and intend to mess him up all night.”

 

There was an awkward silence. Hideaki relished the embarrassed looks on Saionji’s and Tetsuya’s faces. Then he looked at his date and noticed that Omi was also flushed and looking uncomfortably down at the table. He smirked and raised his right leg under the table to rub it against one of Omi’s calves.

 

Omi jerked and looked at him, eyes widened slightly. Then his lover looked at the couple standing beside them. “Ah, thank you for the offer, but I don’t think we will join you tonight. Perhaps…” he swallowed when Hideaki’s leg moved higher, brushing against his inner thighs, “…perhaps another time.”

 

Tetsuya was the first to recover. The King had probably guessed at what was happening under the table, but was thoughtful enough not to point it out. He chuckled and, rubbing the back of his neck, grinned and replied, “Yeah. Another time, right, Kaoru?”

 

Kaoru’s face had settled into a neutral expression, but at the prompt, the Queen smiled, his eyes warm. Utterly oblivious. “Have a good night,” he wished them. Then the King and Queen of Bell Liberty Academy turned and quietly left the restaurant together.

 

Omi glanced down at the dessert dishes and then looked over at Hideaki. “Uh… if you don’t remove your foot, I may not be able to get up for a while.” His blush deepened.

 

Hideaki snickered. “You’re too cute,” he murmured. He lowered his leg back to the floor. Beneath the table, he felt one of Omi’s legs chase his leg and brush their feet together. They smirked at each other.

 

“I like you too,” Omi said.


End file.
